A time before Galbatorix.

So were-cats are allowed. Like the one that helps Angela all the time. ^^

Name: Ballow Luna
Age: 17
Gender:Male
Race: Were-cat, (they can occasionally take human form, can they not?)

Phisical: When in human form:
http://kagaminoir.deviantart.com/art/Red-Angel-72583823
When a cat: http://rainaastaldo.deviantart.com/art/ ... t-48685678

Personality: The michevious attitude that most werectas seem to have and a arroagnce that they share as well. Ballow in himself actually prefers his human form, because he gets to mingle with other people. He has a weird sense of humour and a almost casual approach to death and life; nothing scares him. He is easily tired, but when interested in something can stalk it for months. He is lazy sometimes as well. ^^

History: Accidentally abandoned by his parents Ballow has lived mos of his life going to and fro wandering the world. He now seeks a conpanion to travel with. ( alittle bit more info later ^^)

Approved.

Also, a good question has been brought to my attention.

Our current time line is thus:

The Dragon and Elf wars have just ended and the treaty carried out in the ancient language. The first of the Dragon Riders were born. It has been fifty years since that time of war. So, if you would like to play Brom, or Morzan then prove to me they existed during this time period and I will allow it. Other wise, you are limited to the characters you create in your imagination. Or the characters that do exist. For example, Islanzadi or Oromis.

I do allow it. The playing of main characters that is.

Another important matter:

Currently (not counting myself) we have eight players signed up for this Storybook. I am going to limit the amount of people that can join. I believe this Storybook might be impossibly difficult to pull off with any more than twelve or so players. So once we get around that number expect me to stop approving people unless you can argue yourself in :) So tell your friends, first come first serve.

I also limit the amount of characters each individual can control. Your lucky number is three. You may have less if you choose and if I like your ideas I may permit individuals to have more than three characters. (I, of course, am exempt from this rule.) PM me for anything.

Name: Zeeazyx (zee - ah - zix)
Race: Ra'zak
Age: eighty moons, very near metamorphosis
Gender: Male
Personality: As far as Ra'zak go, he is very assertive. A terrifying leader.
Description: Insect like and when not hunched over stands seven foot tall and weighs 260lb. Lives with his hatch mates on the outskirts of the Beor Mountains. Leagues away from Farthen-Dur where no dwarf would dare tread. He carries a dwarf blade, Urgalthar, slayer of Urgals, which he looted from Farthen-Dur. (Ra'zak don't only eat Humans, you know ) Urgalthar is a wider Shamshir, the curve more fang-like, and longer than normal by exactly one foot.

Name: Sheeath
Race: Ra'zak
Age: seventy moons
Gender: Female
Personality: A slave to the will of Zeeazyx, her mate.
Description: Insect like and when not hunched over stands six foot tall and weighs 190lb. Carries a bow and arrow, poisoned tipped with her own venom.



"Sheeath." Hissed Zeeazyx, unable to keep the venom from his tongue.

"Yes my mate?" The voice came from above.

"I have a plan to discuss with you." Zeeazyx crouched low, tilting his head up with a series of clicks and rattles.

Sheeath free fell from the cavern wall and landed next to her mate, missing the small pools of blood gathered in holes on the cavern floor. Zeeazyx bent down and drank.

"I hunger for dragon eggs." He stood to his full height then, apparently refreshed, and donned a very large brown cloak, fitted with an over-sized hood.

"We nearly died the last time we attempted such idio..." Zeeazyx cut her off.

"I could sate my hunger with your blood... We Ra'zak taste near enough alike." The threat was palpable and all body language dictated his intent.

Sheeath already had her bow at hand and looked at Zeeazyx quizzically.

"Calm yourself, mate" She cooed. "We shall feast on the unborn."

Name: Moon-quik
Gender: female
Race: Werecat
Age: nobody knows her well enough to say.

"Ahh, I should rename myself in the ancient language."

Moon-quik paused in thought. "But, that language is binding. I cannot just name myself; it would be an untruth."

She flicked her paws through her bristling fur. "Hmm... what is the word for light? Garjzla!" A red bolt appeared above her paw-pads. "Garjzla Leith... the light of the moon I am."

Gigantic delay from me seeing this and joining it, but I'm joining. (First storybook, also!)

Final- *edit* Okay, if I get approved I'm your Rider.

Okay, quick general question: shouldn't there be a Discussion thread about this?

Profile:

Name: Naria
Race: Elf
Gender: female
Age: Just out of youth, so she still has some of that 'presence' to her that young elves have. She's somewhere between a fully mature and young elf, but she acts older. Read Brisingr to know what I'm talking about for the 'presence' thing.
Description: A bit more cat-ish then normal elves. Has a really dark "mask" around her eyes, her eyes themselves being light green. Her skin has a slight amber colour to it, covered with almost tortoise shell marking. She's not furry though. Unless you count a slight tuft to the top of her ears. Her hair is really dark brown. Her teeth have a slight point to them, her being more cat-like.
Personality: A forest/shadow creature. Stronger with a bow or her hands. Rather secretive but knows quite a bit from her time spent in shadows. The others know she is there, but also know she will vanish if they get too close.
Magic- She's more comfortable around animals then plants (strange for an elf) and talks to them. She'll sing to plants when needed though.
History- Spends most of her time in the old-growth, but will venture out of her shadowed home. One such time is when the first eggs are delivered to the elves.

Hope that's okay. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tristan looked out at the caravan aproaching down the road. It was odd that one so large should approach so close to his small farm. He ran inside to alert his parents. The three of them stood at the gates and watched the wagons amble down the dirty road.

When they were close Tristans father shouted out in greeting. There was no answer.

The wagons got closer, and right at the gate they stopped very suddenly. There was a long silence as Tristan's familly waited for someone to exit the carriage. Then there was almost a sigh, and arrows flue out of the carriage. Tristan heard the crack as the skulls of his parents were crushed by the shafts. He turned and ran for the house.

He had barely taken a step before he was grabbed and dragged back to the wagon. He tried to resist but a sudden presure on the back of his head made him lose conciousness.

When he woke he was in a small room. All he remembered of that night was the circle of men around him, an absolute silence, and then, the pain. The pain that pierced every bone in his body, and made him wish that death would take him.

The ground beneath me shook vigorously, causing the inner shelling of my egg to rattle and disturb my sleep. Hopefully this time around, one of those elves would be the one I had searched for fifty years for. That would put at end to all of this constant rattling and shaking, and the hands of the clumsy merchants who constantly insisted on pretending to drop me. That they would regret once I got big enough. Very, very deeply.

The time of year to be transported from the land of the humans to the elves had undoubtedly come again. Year after year my egg was shipped around like a bird; yet no one was satisfactory enough. I had yet to reach a mind that wanted me for more than just sheer power.

I had been to the land of the elves five-and-twenty times. I had been fondled, thrown, dropped and nearly shattered, caressed. I had even been laid under that Menoa tree. Her mind was unlike the rest of the elves; unable to properly reach. I had learned after visit two-and-six that trying to reach her mind and get her to hatch my egg was impossible. Improbable, also, but I had been determined. Nothing ever came between a determined dragon and her eye-set. Unless, of course, she had yet to be hatched.

From the feeling of the minds of the other unhatched dragons around me, I was one of the oldest. My parents had hidden me, refused to hatch me because of the war between them and the elves. And fifty years ago they had given me up to be forced into a life of being touched again and again. Most dragons had found their riders by now.

Stretching out with my mind, I probed the thoughts of the people who crowded around me. The only thoughts all of them had were how amazing it was for there to be a white dragon, and how they hoped that the white dragon would be theirs. After all, they had a choice on the color of dragon they got, didn't they. And how much did these eggs sell for? The white one would make a wonderful mantle piece.

So many male minds surrounded my own that I found it odd to find a single female, standing behind the group of men who ran their smooth hands along the silver veins of the outer core of my egg. She was young; her consciousness still glowed dimly with the presence of the elves. Her thoughts focused on the long line of people, and the longer line of eggs; and if it had been a good decision to abandon her comfortable home to simply put her hand on an object.

My heart rumbled with renewed courage as her hand finally laid itself on my egg. Kicking up with my hind legs, I fought through the many layers of the hollow two-and-one-century old egg I had called home. My home was now to be the sky, to be limitless. I had found my rider, and she had found me.

There you go Rosey. Hopefully that gives you enough inspiration [s]Rememer-- Dylis[/s]

Hey, Light_Devil, can you kindda kidnap me? I wanted to write a part for this but in my idea you kindda enter LOL Well, it's not exactly a kidnapp...
I thought I should first ask permission. Plz reply soon! I wanna write!

Rosey - Approved.

Stori - Approved.

(Sorry for the late "approves" sometimes I'm a little dense >< If anyone starts a discussion thread please link me.)

Nerinia

I walked around the forest, in the whereabouts of Ellesméra, with a blank mind. Life in the capital of the Elfs Land was always the same. So quiet! I wanted action, adventure! Something I would not get in Ellesméra.
The forest was calm, too. Light passed gently through the branches of the greenish trees. Nothing was heard.
The leafs of some bushes, a few steps away, were agitated by something. I walked closely, in curiosity. A cat jumped out of the bushes. I wasn't sure if it was a cat, it was bigger than usual cats.My hand approached the orange feline, trying to caress it.
"Oh, so cut-"
I got interrupted when the cat transformed to some kind of human. He grabbed my arm, and twisted it around my back. An acute pain cut my arm and I suppressed a sob.
"What do you want?" I asked, with scorn. What a low way to catch some one.
"I want to get to Ellesméra. And you are going to help me". His low voice startled me. He seemed evil, and his voice, dark.
"Well, you better wait seated"
The pressure in my arm increased.
"You are going to help me, aren't you?"
I was in no position to decline.
Voices were heard. It seemed there were already elfs looking for this...hum, person? He turned around to run away. I don't know what came on to me, but I grabbed his hand and ran with him. Didn't I want adventure?

[So this is kind sloppy, and bad, and awful. Light_Devil, I'm not making your character bad, it will have a twist. Sorry if I'm not following the rules, it's my first storybook. Oh and Light_Devil, your were-cat will soon get ride of my character, don't worry ]

*You're lucky I got approved!!!*

Naria-

I backed up as the egg began to crack. I hadn't wanted to come. My home was the forest, the shadows, the animals! Had it not been for the magical call I would have stayed as far away as possible. I didn't want to be out in the open. I could feel the safe shadows of the old-growth that had housed me get farther and farther away the more the egg rocked. Homesickness welled up inside me, mixed with the loneliness of my parent's death in the dragon war. The shadows had kept me safe all through that war, and now, I would be expected to leave them-- to be a Rider no less. I would be bonded to the race that had taken my childhood, my safety-- my parents.

A white dragon! The only colour that would be impossible to truly hide in shadows. I looked at the black markings on my skin I had taken to blend in with the forest. They spread over my hands like gloves; a gedwey ignasia would shine even brighter on my flesh.

The cracks spread, and a silvery-white dragon broke out of the shell. It's eyes were silver, reminding me of the white wolf I had nursed so long ago. In the dragon's eyes I could see the same longing as that wolf's-- it had been in it's egg so long, it had almost given up hope at finding a Rider.

"You must touch it," Islanzadi said from in front of me. "The hatchling chose you."

"The most stubborn egg picked the most secretive elf!" somebody joked behind me. I spun and hissed, showing my sharp canine teeth. I had always admired a cat's body; reason I had taken elements of it for my own.

The crowd silenced, I turned back to the hatchling. It was still waiting for me to touch it. It seemed to be-- amused, perhaps, by my display of teeth. I reached my left arm out, fingers brushing it's shoulder. Pain that was both white-hot and ice-cold plagued my senses, forcing my knees to buckle. Still, my hand did not leave the hatchling's shoulder.

Another consciousness swept through mine-- a bond deeper then any of those shared between those on two legs. Dragon and Rider, body and soul, were one.

I stirred, feeling grass beneath my back. The hatchling was on my chest, keeping the elves around me at bay with a low hiss. I smiled; it seemed to be learning already.

What is your name? I asked through it's mind.

It's-- her head whipped around to look at me. She peered at me closely, making up her mind if she should tell me or not.

You choose, she replied curtly.

I chuckled, lightly stroking her wings. Her white hide was dusted with silver scales, like pure, new snow.

"Dylis," I said slowly, out loud for the benefit of those around me. "Your name shall be Dylis."

Hey, Chupatoasta can I my character be the Dragon Rider of your unhatched dragon?
*pretty please*

*Wow, that is a very, shall I say, sharp portrayal of my character. I have no qualms with it. Also thanks for bringing me in^^ I should mention that when Ballow is in fact in cat form he is quite large, about the size of a small big cat, like a lynx*

Ballow

Ballow turned to the person, "Come on then. I have to get going!"

She followed him with a confused expression on her face. Ballow frowned, This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I was looking for a companion . . . but I suppose take what fate gives you.

After they had gotten far enough away from the pursuers Ballow stopped mid-track and turned to her, "I'm Ballow. You know a were-cat. You are now my companion, tell me your name and race."

This were-cat was very arrogant. And as she she her blade in reply to his sharp questioning, he just eyed it with amusement. Had this creature no fear of death? Ballow turned into a cat and perched himself above her shoulder, squeezing out claws he placed them near her neck, Name and race darling.

The claws dug painfully into her neck and she knew if she moved she would be a goner, "Nerinia. Half elf."

His claws retracting and jumping off of her shoulder he turned back into a human, "Well, you're very pretty for a half breed. Me, I'm full were-cat."

Ballow began to walk again with a slight chuckle on his breath. Nerinia tried to catch up, "Wait arne't you a bit young to be by yourself, where are you parents?"

It was common knowledge that were-cats stayed with their family for a long time as they were very long lived creatures. And as soon as that question exited her mouth she wished she could take it back because of the way Ballow back tensed up and his head turned sharply to face her.

There was a sort of undefinable emotion in his eyes as he hissed at her, "Don't talk about my parents."

I created a DT for you guys... post499408.html#499408

Brisingir:

He flew over the dunes of the desert, over the woods of the elves. He was a veteran of the war and a slayer and whats more?

In his eyes burned a invisible fire, a unbeatable will. His soul was a fiery pitch of orange flames, and he also looked like a ball of fire flying through the sky. His name was Brisingir.

He was one of the dragons who didn't like the idea of riders. Pathetic he thought.

Sacrificing free will to live with humans. Hmph I would rather die.

*********************************************
Corona:

Corona sat on his throne smiling, his newest shipment of gold had just arrived, and everyone knew how much he loved gold. His love for it was never ending there could never be enough gold to satisfy his needs.... Never.